


Imagine you’re involved with a conservator of a rare and alien species …

by imagineyourepregnant



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Impregnation, Birth Fetish, Breeding Kink, Consensual, Cum Inflation, F/M, Fpreg, Impregnation, Other, Oviposition, Pregnant Sex, Tentacles, labor fetish, multiples pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 01:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13514319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineyourepregnant/pseuds/imagineyourepregnant
Summary: You’re a very happy couple, and also extremely happy to get right on busy with breeding. On your wedding night, he knocks you up with your first child, and from that very first pregnancy, you’re hooked on the feeling, and he’s hooked on watching you swell.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original post: http://imagineyourepregnant.tumblr.com/post/142743347363/imagine-youre-involved-with-a-conservator-of-a

You’re a very happy couple, and also extremely happy to get right on busy with breeding. On your wedding night, he knocks you up with your first child, and from that very first pregnancy, you’re hooked on the feeling, and he’s hooked on watching you swell.

Nine months later, your first child is born, and almost immediately, your partner has you bent over, your panties around your ankle, as he takes you bare and fills you to the brim with his seed. It takes, and your first child is only nine months old when your twins are born.

And again.

And again. On the fourth pregnancy, it’s triplets.

Finally, as you’re balancing two babies on top a belly that hasn’t yet lost its baby weight, feeling them suckle hungrily at your overfull breasts and reflecting eagerly on the other children who will suckle tonight (all but your oldest are still young enough to breastfeed), you realize with a pang that you don’t have the resources for any more children. At eight children, and even with the nanny you’ve employed, you just can’t afford anymore.

But you look down at your body and think about just how fertile your body is. After all, you got started at barely 20 and it hasn’t even been four years. Your body still has so much more to give.

When you express your thoughts to your husband (while your breasts are still spilling out of your top, and your belly peeks out from under your too-small shirt), he licks his lips.

You pause. You know that look. “You have an idea,” you accuse.

Your husband looks at you sheepishly. “We-ell,” he says slowly. “You know, at the conservation center? We have a lot of species looking for a host or mate. And … most of them can use human hosts. We don’t pair them with humans usually because most humans don’t like the total intensity of the breeding, but like …” His eyes gleam. “I know you’d love it.“

Your breath catches. "You want to breed me with alien species?”

”Hell, yes. It’d increase their numbers, you’d love it, and bonus! It’d be totally hot.“

You laugh and kiss him soundly. You knew there was a reason you married him.

————-

The next day, you show up at the conservation in loose clothing, well-fed (“you’ll need to keep up your strength,” your husband had insisted), and tingling all over in excitement.

Your husband bounces along in front of you, clearly as excited as you to get started.

“We’re gonna get you started with something a little bit familiar,” your husband rambles on, as you pass through hall after hall of doors, each with another alien. You stare at each of them, wondering which is going to be your first new mate. “I mean, as far as aliens are considered, ‘familiar’ is kinda relative. But what we’ve got for you is a giant cephalapod of Octarian Prime, and the process for that species is pretty similar to what you’ve already gone through four times. You’re gonna get inseminated, impregnated with a single offspring, which will gestate in your womb for a month and half before needing to be born. Pretty much, we just wanna get you used to carrying and birthing alien offspring for now.”

You shoot a glare at your husband. “I’m ready. I don’t need to be given baby steps. I’ve carried triplets already and for nine months; I can do way more than that.”

“Relax, dove. This isn’t going to be your run-of-the-mill pregnancy.”

He shoves a door open. You stop dead.

Inside the room is a writhing mess of tentacles. You can’t see where they start or end, or if there’s a head or body or anything. They wave in the air, lazily … but waiting.

Your husband comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your torso. He strokes your plump belly gently. “The giant cephalapod of Octarian Prime is gonna fuck you for, oh, six hours, filling you with so much cum and aphrodisiac there’s no way you won’t be pregnant. You’ll be drawn up by its tentacles so you can’t move and fucked even when you pass out. And after that, we’ll check that the insemination took - I have no doubts - and then every day until the offspring is born you will have to return here to be fucked again. The contractions of orgasm stimulate the offspring’s development, and for full healthy development, you will need to be fucked for eight hours a day until it’s born.”

You shiver, all words temporarily leaving you.

Your husband’s hand creeps down to cover your groin, which is already soaked through with your anticipation. He draws one finger across the crease of your folds, further soaking the fabric of your underwear. “Ready?”

You nod weakly.

And so he pushes you right in.

Immediately tentacles curl around your legs and up your torso, eagerly binding you down so you can’t run or fight. Not that you planned to. You’re yanking down your panties and hiking up your skirt as fast as you can, and your milk-filled breasts have started leaking excitedly, staining the white fabric of your shirt.

You don’t manage to get your underpants down past your knees before creature finds your entrance. You let out a delighted cry as you feel the first tentacle push into your sopping pussy. It’s not a very thick appendage, but that’s quickly compensated for by a second shoving in next to it. You let out a groan; your knees give out, but oh there are tentacles wrapped around your arms now, holding you upright. The tentacles inside you begin to to move as a third join them, and there’s a fourth probing your ass and a fifth at your mouth. Your head is already swimming in pleasure as you part your lips to swallow it down, and you groan headily around the mass shoving deeper into your throat.

Tentacles squeezing your breasts; tentacles fucking your pussy and ass and mouth; tentacles binding you fast – this is heaven. You wonder how you must look to your husband, but you can’t turn around to look. Doesn’t matter. You’re sure he loves it, and you love him for giving you this experience. You moan and and buck again, doing what you can to put on a show for his benefit.

Suddenly, all at once, every tentacle inside you bursts their contents. You yell as alien semen fills every orifice. It’s thick and viscous and warm and tastes of musk and honey. At every point of contact throughout your body, you feel heat surge. Your thoughts turn white as the insatiable need to be fucked into oblivion turns into a roaring desperation and you sob, bucking and bucking and taking as much tentacle into your body as you can.

As cum and aphrodisiac leak down your legs, more tentacles are suddenly winding up to join their siblings in your holes, stretching you wider. You welcome them with a delighted scream. And again, the pace picks up.

This goes on for hours. You pass out from pleasure more times than you can count, and at the end of it, every inch of your body is slick with sweat and cum and aphrodisiac. Finally, the tentacles withdraw. You don’t know where they go; you’re practically blinded with all your orgasms. But without their support, you stumble - only to be caught by gentle, familiar hands.

Your husband gently lowers you to the ground, where he continues stroking your face. You lean into his hand and try to focus on him. Slowly, his expression swims into view: your husband looks flushed and aroused, but happy and loving. He runs an instrument over your belly.

Finally, he looks back up to you with a broad grin spreading across his entire face. “Pregnant,” he announces.

You moan, feeling the first stirrings of alien life warm within you.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the next month and a half progresses, your husband is true to his word and brings you in to the conservation center every morning to be fucked absolutely senseless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post: http://imagineyourepregnant.tumblr.com/post/143000535486/imagine-youre-married-to-a-conservator-of-alien

As the next month and a half progresses, your husband is true to his word and brings you in to the conservation center every morning to be fucked absolutely senseless. You emerge from the Giant Cephalopod’s chamber every evening with trembling legs and cum-slick skin, but a dazed smile is fixed on your face as you stroke your slowly-swelling belly.

In that month and a half, you plump up fast, as if you were carrying a human child to full-term. Your breasts become more sensitive, and contentedness at your fullness is constantly buzzing under your skin.

Until finally, one day, you’re mid-fuck with your alien mate when suddenly your water breaks. You cry out as the first contractions seize your body – but something about the alien’s excretions must have changed you, because there is none of the pain you’ve associated with your past pregnancies. Only intense, mind-numbing pleasure. Your husband rushes in to hold you and stroke you through your contractions, while the Giant Cephalopod holds your legs wide for the coming offspring.

A few hours later, a small, writhing mass of tentacles plops out into your husband’s waiting arms. He tends to the newborn gently, cleaning and examining it, before declaring it perfectly healthy and returning it to its alien parent. Then, he leans over, and kisses you soundly.

—-

“So, the Giant Cephalopod pregnancy was an unparalleled success,” your husband tells you brightly the next day, as he leads you down the corridors of the conservation center. “So, we think we’re gonna get you started on a related species from Octarian Prime. The Colossal Cephalopod.“

There’s almost a spring in your husband’s step as he continues to describe:

"Like the Giant Cephalopod, the Colossal Cephalopod reproduces through fucking and filling its host with its cum, and for a while, you’ll have to keep coming back every day to be refucked. But there are a few differences. For one, the tentacles are a bit … larger. So are its offspring. Also, it produces litters of four. So those are the first things. And also - although you’ll have to be fucked again daily while carrying, it’s for a different reason. The Giant Cephalopod needed to be stimulated by your orgasms. The Colossal Cephalopod needs to consume your cum during its gestation for full development. So for the first two months, you’ll need to be fucked daily by the parent creature to produce that cum. In the third month, however, the offspring will be able to stimulate you themselves from within the womb.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest. The scenario your husband is describing sounds divine. You also notice that the Colossal Cephalopod has double the gestation period of your last offspring.

You lick your lips. Your mouth feels dry. “When do we get started?”

Your husband flashes you a grin. “Right now.”

He pushes open a new door, when you are quickly grabbed and divested of your clothing (you hadn’t worn much, to be fair: just panties and your bra) and filled with strange tentacles which already leak their fluids. You scream at the first entrance: your husband had not been joking that these tentacles would be larger, but the burn of stretch is delicious. Even when a tentacles as thick as your forearm shoves right into your ass.

It’s like every fucking you’ve had with the Giant Cephalopod, except so much more intense. By the time your husband gingerly carries you out of that room, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck so you don’t topple to the ground, you feel you barely have a thought in your head other than just how good you feel. You nuzzle into your husband’s neck sleepily, and he huffs a small laugh as he strokes your cum-soaked hair. “You’re pregnant again,” he tells you softly. “Four, just like I promised.”

You let out a happy hum, too exhausted to say anything more.

For two months, you are fucked by the Colossal Cephalopod daily, left weak and placated, and carried out by your husband at the end of the day. Until one day, you’re lying in bed with your husband at the end of the day, his head tucked up against your shoulder as he props up a book on your massively swollen belly (you look as large as you were when you had your triplets at full term, and there’s still at least another month to go). And suddenly, you feel something move inside you and twist down through your canal. You gasp sharply.

Your husband looks up at you. “Dove?”

“I … it’s …”

It doesn’t feel like the whole of any of the offspring - it’s not large enough for that. Whatever it is, it’s curling and twisting and you suddenly find yourself dripping as heat rushes through your body. You let out a quiet moan.

A smile unfurls across your husband’s face. He dives down to wrench down the covers and your underpants to reveal a small tentacle reaching out from your pussy and slowly sliding up through your folds. When it finds your clit, it pushes down, and you let out a sharp cry as you arc off the bed.

“Aw, look at that. They’ve gotten old enough to self-feed,” your husband comments, encouragingly stroking the little guy’s appendage. “Don’t hold back. We want them to grow big and strong, so give them all the cum they want.”

Turns out, your litter wants you to cum six more times before bed. When you finally collapse onto the sheets again, exhausted, your husband draws you in close, kisses your lips – and enters you without warning.

You yell as your oversensitive pussy is pounded, but you love every minute of it and cling to your husband with a grip powerful enough to bruise. You pass out from the pleasure before he’s done, and when you wake up the next morning, it’s with your dried semen itchy on your thighs.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your offspring keep you almost constantly aroused and coming for the next several months. You waddle around the house, attempting to keep up with chores, but are more often than not reduced to clutching the wall and mewling as another orgasm overcomes you. And whenever the little ones inside you are done making you come, your husband takes you for himself, kissing you tenderly as he fucks you so roughly you can’t see straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post: http://imagineyourepregnant.tumblr.com/post/143674231415/imagine-youre-married-to-an-alien-conservator-pt

Your offspring keep you almost constantly aroused and coming for the next several months. You waddle around the house, attempting to keep up with chores, but are more often than not reduced to clutching the wall and mewling as another orgasm overcomes you. And whenever the little ones inside you are done making you come, your husband takes you for himself, kissing you tenderly as he fucks you so roughly you can’t see straight.

You don’t wear panties or pants anymore; your offspring had kept you so wet that you would have constantly been changing underwear all day. Just maternity dresses, too small to fit you right, and usually with a noticeable wet spot from your soaked pussy.

Finally, your water breaks when you are in the middle of trying to prepare lunch one day. You cry out as you cling to the counter, feeling your fluids sluice down your thighs and soak you thoroughly. Your husband, hearing your cry, rushes into the room, and when he realizes what is going on, he helps lie you on the kitchen table and hikes your skirt up.

This labor is harder than the last, with the colossal creatures inside you squeezing down your canal. But every second is pleasurable, and you come six or seven times, your husband petting your hair the whole time.

When the last alien cephalopod slips from your body, your husband bends down to inspect them and declares them all perfectly healthy. You lay there panting as your husband tends to the creatures and then brings two up to your chest to suckle. You cry out as they latch on; pleasure shoots through your overtired body.

“I should get these little guys to the conservation center as soon as they’re done feeding,” he tells you.

“Take me with you,” you whine.

He looks dubious. “You should rest, you know…”

You shake your head furiously, even though your vision swims from the sudden movement. “I’m empty. Need something inside. Get me pregnant. Please.”

“Well, when you beg so pretty …”

—-

That very afternoon, you’re lying on a medical table, your bare legs spread wide. Your husband’s fingers are deep inside you, which, while nice, are not trying to pleasure you. You buck your hips forward, trying to encourage your husband to fuck you but your husband just continues with his clinical examination of your pussy.

Frustrated, you groan. Your husband grins cheekily at you. He knows.

“Well, you’re all set,” he declares finally. “Your next creature is going to be the Othinic Arachnid. First, the female is going to visit you, and deposit its eggs deep into your womb. Next - well, the Othinic Arachnid is quite endangered and we need to be careful about improving the genetic diversity. So, we’re going to have approximately … fourteen males come in to fertilize the eggs. If we’re lucky, each egg will have a different father!”

Your husband looks so excited about the prospect. It’s kind of adorable, you reflect.

“Sounds great,” you tell him. “Let’s get started.”

He grins, and leaves the room. You’re left waiting only a few minutes before a hatch at the top of the room opens, and suddenly an enormous black creature, with many spindly legs, descends from the ceiling on a rope of web.

You gasp. The creature is so large; a thrill of fear runs through you. But it doesn’t overrun the excitement, and you eagerly spread your legs for the enormous alien creature.

When the creature reaches you, it takes a moment to inspect you, its many eyes traveling up and down your taxed frame. It takes its time. You’re just beginning to get impatient, though, when you suddenly feel the broad head of the ovipositor breach you.

You cry out as pleasure swims through your brain. “Oh god yes. Fuck me. Breed me!“ 

You have no idea if the creature understands English, but it seemed to get the gist. It slides right in, and when it reaches your cervix, it gives a little hard push and slides right in.

You mewling, panting, eager to feel it fill you up. The creature starts thrusting within your womb and you feel dizzy with the sensation. Suddenly, the ovipositor releases a torrent of fluid, and you watch as your belly paunches out. You moan eagerly, gripping the expanding girth.

And then – there’s something hard and round traveling up the length of the ovipositor inside you. You watch as it reaches your pussy lips and then presses inside. You cry out as it breaches you, beginning to stretch you. Up it continues, until landing, heavy and warm and welcome, deep in your womb. You yell and arch up. But you barely have time to adjust because a second and third and fourth are already pumping into you.

You lose track. By the time the creature pulls out, you are swollen and woozy with pleasure, your belly distended to the size it was when you were full term with your first child. You clutch at your belly, relishing in the size and wishing it were just a bit bigger.

Before you know it, the arachnid has ascended back up through the hatch.

The door opens again, and it’s your husband. He comes in and examines you, fussing all the while. "Hmm, looks like she gave you a larger clutch than expected,” he declares finally. “We’re going to have to bring in more males for you.”

“What…? How many–?”

But your husband is already gone again.

The hatch at the ceiling pops open, and you roll your head back eagerly to watch as the first male descends toward you. It doesn’t even waste time inspecting you; plunges right in with an enormous cock - larger than the ovipositor - which makes you scream. It fucks you thoroughly, making your belly bounce with each thrust, and finally comes in a torrent of cum which floods your insides. Your belly swells further, but more cum spills out and trickles down your legs.

As it pulls back, you realize the room has already filled with other males. You can’t see how many, but one by one they step up to fill your body with their cum. Sometime after the sixteenth, you pass out from pleasure and exhaustion and orgasms. You drift in and out of consciousness as each arachnid continues to use you.

It is several hours later that your husband comes back in to inspect the results. You are filthy with cum and sweat at this point, your belly an enormous swell over your frame. Your husband runs a few instruments over your swollen belly and then reports, pride a heavy current in his tone that you are pregnant with the offspring of thirty different males.

You groan. You are so, so pregnant, and so, so happy.


End file.
